


Restless

by oleao



Category: Ookiku Furikabutte | Big Windup!
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, evangelion crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-12
Updated: 2014-05-12
Packaged: 2018-01-24 11:53:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,773
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1604177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oleao/pseuds/oleao
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Tajima hasn't slept for days and child pilots cooperate.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Restless

About two o’clock in the darkness someone began rapping furiously at the door.

Fortunately, it did nothing to disturb Hanai’s sleep, which he failed to obtain, since he had been kept up by the outrageous company of his own restless ruminations. He found himself thanking the sudden diversion which drew him away from his own suffocating conscience. Presently the knocking paused. The  _tick-tocking_  of the clock filled the hush. Hanai pried open bleary eyes, absently studied the silhouette of his window frame casted on to the ceiling by grey moonlight, and waited.

Four knocks came, now a little louder. “Let me in.”

Hanai heaved. “Can you not?” he whispered. He turned to his side and buried his chin beneath his blanket.

There was a temporary silence. “Let me in,” the visitor repeated. The rattle of breath that followed made Hanai’s eyes jerk open once more. “Please let me in.”

The boy sighed. He tossed his blanket aside and darted towards the door, staggering in the dark. He had barely unlatched the chain lock when the door swung open and knocked him aside, the smaller figure of the second pilot barging in and shooting straight towards his bed.

“Close the door.”

“What the  _hell?_ ” Hanai yelled. But in the bleak light that spilled from the fluorescent lamps of the corridor, Hanai saw Tajima immediately curl up on his bed, back against the wall, knees gathered tightly to his chest. He assumed the rigidity of a stone. Tajima wasn’t looking at Hanai, but in his gaze, which was fixed somewhere between the windowsill and the floor, was plastered a wild and chillingly unfamiliar look. It was one marred by exhaustion and terror. Hanai’s nape prickled.  He had pronounced eye bags, much like the ones you receive after waking up from a hellish nightmare, only to remember you are living in the heart of one. The light seemed too heavy on him – Hanai thought any longer exposure would leave bruises on his flesh, or illuminate scars that had always been too private to be shown. It already seemed to burn him.

So Hanai closed the door.

He remained leaning against it for a while. Both boys stayed motionless, one curled, frozen, in the abstract mess of sheets and blankets, while the other stared at him, bewildered. The clock ticked steadily – the only sound to remind Hanai of the certain passing of time, in its faithful regularity, which can either be a comfort or a cause for distress, depending on your circumstances. He walked towards his bed and stood in front of his colleague, arms crossed. “Hey. What’s wrong?’

Tajima’s eyeballs flickered up at him. Hanai wanted to crumble. They rolled slowly away again and Tajima mumbled, “I can’t sleep.”

"That makes two of us," Hanai replied.

He waited. Tajima shook his head, as though he was having an internal quarrel with himself. “God, you’re right. This is all fucked up. How are we supposed to make it?”

“What do you mean?” the taller boy asked, softly. “I thought you’re the one who’s always saying we could. That there will someday be an end to this. For a moment, we honestly believed you.”

Tajima shot a piercing glare at him, worn eyes narrowed. “No, you didn’t. How could anyone believe that? Do you even  _understand_  what’s going on?”

Hanai’s mouth parted but nothing came out. Tajima clenched his fists. “Come on, Hanai. You’re the one who’s always reminding us over and over again. We’re on the verge of an apocalypse. Two Impacts, and an Angel almost every other day, and they’re relying on  _kids_ like us to shoulder the safety of the world. Kids!” His voice cracked in a shrill outburst. “I want to stop. Please, God, make it stop. I’m so damn _tired_.”

A long moment passed in which Hanai stood helplessly, stunned. A thin coat of perspiration formed on his brow and neck. He began, with infinite patience,“We’re  _all_  tired. But we’re also trying our hardest. I’m just repeating what  _you_  said, because I’ve realized how important this is. And it’s not just us kids. Momoe is doing her best to command us through every mission; Nerv is doing everything they could to make sure we properly save humanity’s sorry ass–“

“Mihashi is traumatized, and Abe is missing,” Tajima breathed raspily. Hanai’s lips shut. The words stung like a whip lash, and it hurt them both. Tajima brought his hands to his face and exhaled into them. He stayed with his head bowed down and propped between his hands, as if he was trying to shut out some noise that only he could hear. “How long will it be with only the two of us piloting the EVAs? We might seem okay now, but you know, I’m growing sick of the smell of LCL. I get anxious at the thought of piloting EVA, and I’m terrified that I won’t be able to sync properly with Unit 01. You saw what happened yesterday in maintenance. I’m a mess. I’m so—“ he hesitated. Then, in a whisper, “I’m _scared_ , Hanai. Look.” He held out his hand and, in the dim moonlight, Hanai could make out the faint outline of his fingers. They were trembling.

The sight made Hanai swallow. For the three months he had spent piloting EVA, it hadn’t struck him how new he was to his role as a fighter –at least, never as vividly as it did at that particular moment. He was introduced to Nerv when they were in a state of chaos; Abe was a ghost that only existed to him on the lips of others, and he had only managed to acquaint himself with Mihashi during his first couple of weeks as a pilot. It wasn’t that he felt indifferent about the two. Far from it. But he had somehow assumed he and Tajima would be alright, because they had made a compact team, and Tajima was an incredibly self-sufficient pilot on his own to start with.

Now it was evident that having passed a year of being an EVA pilot at Nerv – and their most revered one yet – the burden of the world was weighing down on him. Something hitched in Hanai’s throat. It ached to see Tajima in the state that he was in right now, much smaller than he would be normally, and quaking with fright on Hanai’s bed. He sat down, took Tajima’s fingers in his hand and ran his thumb gently along his knuckles. They were deathly cold.

"When was the last time you had proper sleep?"

Tajima looked at his curled toes. “Five days ago.”

"Right. Let’s get you to bed."  

Tajima said nothing, just nodded. Hanai told him to move aside. He briskly unfolded his crumpled blanket and spread it over his bed, then sidled close to the wall. He patted the space next to him. “Staying for tonight?”

The second pilot inclined his head, gazing at the spare pillow. “If that’s okay. Please.”

Hanai couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. Do what you have to do.”

He watched as Tajima clambered into bed, delicately, as if it were a sanitary process. He shifted to his side so Hanai was facing his back. A while later, Hanai would follow the gentle rising and falling of his side, his petite but strikingly well-built outline softly illuminated by the silver light that filtered through the windows. It soothed him, the even pacing, the emanating warmth.

So swiftly, he, too, was swept away by a silent wave of sleep.

Which did not last long. He was woken up by the sensation of flesh - arms - twining around his rib cage. Someone was pressing their self against his chest, his heart raced; a brief spur of panic, before he remembered that he had unwittingly been willing to share his bed with a guest tonight. He sighed into a mess of black hair. The stench of sweat socked him in the nose.

"Hanai," Tajima’s muffled murmur rose, "Your heartbeat just went up for a sec." He lifted his head up to give Hanai a sleepy smirk. The corners of Hanai’s lips twitched, he looked so stupid.

"What are you doing?" Hanai croaked.

"Sorry." Tajima wriggled back to let some space between their torsos, but his hand remained resting on Hanai’s ribs. "You were so warm."

It was summer.

"All better?" Hanai asked.

"Much better. I’m gonna do this more often now."

“ _Please._ " And Tajima laughed, despite it being the only word Hanai could muster, each soft laughter punctuated by small bursts of warm air against his chest. Hanai tried - tried - to keep his heart beat checked.

They said nothing for a while. Hanai thought Tajima had resumed his slumber. He lay immersed in the shared warmth of themselves. Then—

"I don’t want you to go."

Hanai furrowed his brows. “I’m not going anywhere.” (And in his current position, he really couldn’t.)

"No, I mean—" Tajima squirmed. The bed creaked. "I don’t want you to just… go. Like Abe. Or Mihashi." He paused. "I don’t want to be alone."

Suddenly - Hanai couldn’t quite describe it, but he understood something, and it felt like discovering a gap in the sky. He pulled the blanket over Tajima’s shoulder. “Then I won’t let anything happen to me.”

Tajima clenched a fistful of Hanai’s shirt. “You can’t say that. That’s what Abe said to Mihashi.”

"Oh." Blood rang in Hanai’s ears. "They’ll find other children. Then as long as we’re both able to, I’ll continue fighting Angels with you."

"How many Angels do you think there are?"

"From what I’ve heard, fifteen."

"There are signs of possibly even more. And how long do you think it will be? Before the Angels stop."

_How long?_

"I… I don’t know."

Tajima ducked his head closer to Hanai’s chest. “Me neither.”

And finally, neither of them said anything after that. Tajima eventually fell asleep. Hanai knew this because he found himself running his fingers through his hair gently, later. It did nothing to arouse him from his sleep.

For a while, he could only toss back and forth between the thoughts of EVA and the Angels. How long would it be before they were finally safe from their blows? Would they have to kill every last one of them before they could all be at rest? There could be hundreds of them. If that was the case, Hanai loathed to think of their everlasting battle, in which they would barely be halfway done by now, and nearly everyone was breaking or are already torn to pieces.

Outside, the light grew brighter. Hanai shut his eyes.

_How long?_


End file.
